


I Can Make Your Day Glow

by Marlon



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Flirty Hux, M/M, Model Hux, Modern AU, Pining, art school au, sculptor kylo, unsure kylo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 13:42:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11922096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marlon/pseuds/Marlon
Summary: “You have a lot of talent, Kylo,” his advisor muses while paging through his portfolio, “but you’ll never really excel until you master the human form.”----Kylo begrudgingly attends the extra drawing classes recommended by his advisor. He knows it's unprofessional to crush on the new model, but Hux is so beautiful and a fantastic model. And he seems to like Kylo in return? That can't be right?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fauxtalian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fauxtalian/gifts).



> This is based on a prompt from the excellent Fauxtalian - art to be posted later today! Thanks to Fauxtalian for all the support and the smashing idea, and to Thecopperriver for last minute editing advice and problem-solving!
> 
> Please enjoy my fic for the Kyluc Reverse Mini-bang 2017! Yes, I know this is the mini-bang, and this story is nine chapters, it just took Kylo and Hux to get to where they needed to be!

“You have a lot of talent, Kylo,” his advisor muses while paging through his portfolio, “but you’ll never really excel until you master the human form.”

Kylo mumbles apologies into his chest. Professor Sloane looks up at him over the winged frames of her eyeglasses.

“Every student here, even sculpture students,” she looks pointedly at him, “needs a firm understanding of figure drawing.”

“But I’m already taking the drawing courses this year.”

“If you’re serious about a career in art, Kylo,” she closes his portfolio case with finality and slides it across the workbench to him, “then you need to work for it. Go to the open studio sessions Wednesdays and Fridays this term, find yourself a muse. Then come back and we’ll talk about graduate school.”

\----

Kylo stomps through the rotunda, up the marble stairs of Slade Hall, making sure to scuff and squeak his boots upon each step, making as much noise as possible. He glares up at the student projects on newly put on display upon the walls of the atrium. He sneers at the display of fabric art from one of his fellow students.

_Fabric art._

If you considered that art, which he dosen’t.

He gains the third floor and makes a sharp turn down the hall, following the maze of corridors until he comes to the battered door that leads to the upper-level students’ studio space. He bulls his way through the door, hugging the portfolio case to his side so it didn’t catch on the narrow door frame. In the quiet space of the studio, he softens his steps. The studio is as sacred to him as a church might be to others. He respects the space and the work of the other students stacked on easels, leaning up against walls, flying from the rafters. It wouldn’t do to charge through the room and accidentally upset someone’s work. His excuse that “it’s performance art” only worked that one time, and then never again.

Picking his way through the crowded studio, he sighs as he makes it to his small corner of the room. He carefully props his portfolio case up against his workbench. Sinking dramatically down onto the threadbare sofa, he sighs again.

Why does everything have to happen to him so much?

When another loud sigh fails to elicit a response from any of the other pokey, haunted corners of the studio, he decides he’s probably alone. Which was odd; most of his fellow students basically live at the studio during the school year.

Lurching to his feet, he pulls the battered metal stool from beneath his workbench and sits to contemplate his situation. He pulls his wayward curls into an untidy topknot and then drags a container of slightly filthy objects toward him. He paws through the collection of rocks, metallic bits, greenish glass - worn smooth by years in the river - the odd coin, and other bits and bobs. Even though he thoroughly disinfects everything he scavenges from the foreshore of the Thames, Ysabeau, his studio neighbour, complains weekly about the briny, oily scent of his treasures.

An idea for a new piece begins to coalesce in his mind’s eye. He carefully extricates a large sketch pad out of the towering stack of books at the end of the bench. Flipping to a clean, fresh page, he reverently traces his fingers down the pristine paper. Without looking, he reaches down to open the drawer for a handful of drawing implements. The drawer catches on the edge of his portfolio case, sending it tumbling to the floor. 

His concentration shattered, Kylo slides from the stool to gather the case from the floor. Crouching over it, he flips back the cover and pages through his sketches. He hates to admit it, but Sloane was right, he’s sorely lacking in life drawing. Grumbling to himself, he closes the case and deftly slides it home between the arm of the sofa and the wall. He leans back against the sofa and gazes around his tiny studio space. The easel is stacked with drawings of all sorts and on his other workbench, the components of his latest sculpture are laid out, waiting for him to assemble them.

The sculpture will have to wait for another time though. Kylo picks himself up off the floor and slumps back into the sagging sofa. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and searches for the website of his favourite art supply store, Piett & Veers. Maybe some new drawing supplies are exactly what he needs to make the extra drawing classes palatable. He isn’t going to get any work done now. Usually, he can channel his frustrations and boundless energy into his work, but today doesn’t feel like one of those days.

He pats at the pockets of his coat and jeans to make sure he has his wallet as he stands. Glancing at the inventory of the art store one last time, he slips the phone back into his pocket and with an apologetic look to his studio space, carefully threads his way back to the door. 

Outside, he turns his collar up against the windy, dreary January day and jogs down the stairs, heading to the nearest Tube stop. The fresh air blows some of the moody thoughts from his head - he’ll only get as much out of these extra classes as he puts into them, he reasons, keeping an open mind will be key. As he passes through the campus gates and heads down the pavement, he resolves to try his best. Maybe this drawing class will actually be fun. Maybe.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it. This is the end of art as Kylo knows it. The extra drawing classes are worse than he feared - full of wannabe artists except for a few with genuine talent. The new model that shows up to class is stunning, so maybe these classes aren't nearly as bad as Kylo first thought.

This is it. This is the end of art as he knows it.

Kylo glances bleakly around the large studio. He can’t bear another week of this. Another week of giggling teenagers, fake wannabe artists, and mature students who constantly regale him with tales of their “life experience”. However, as irritating as he finds these plebeians, there are some actual bright spots in this tedious class. Poe, the graduate student who moderates the open studio, is an excellent instructor and a fellow sculptor. Kylo would never admit it, but the opportunity to be mentored by Poe has been helpful. Not that Professor Sloane isn’t a good mentor, it’s just that Poe’s experience with the pressures of student life is a lot fresher than Sloane’s.

And, after a couple classes, Kylo will admit that there are even some of the other students he doesn’t really mind; a few with genuine talent and a respect for the discipline that rivals his own. He smiles a greeting to Finn when he enters the studio. Finn is one such student: talented, serious, but inexplicably studying biology instead of art. He claims the extra drawing classes help him with his lab diagrams but personally, Kylo thinks he’s wasted in the laboratory.

He finds that he actually enjoys the dynamic of working with a model. Phasma, the tall blonde woman who usually models for them, is maybe not the most expressive of models but she can hold a pose without even batting an eyelash for an amazingly long time.

Maybe, Kylo thinks, as he glances around the room watching the others set up, it’s not all bad. Poe, Finn, and even Phasma, make the class bearable.

The last few stragglers rush into the studio, including Mitaka, who is in many of Kylo’s classes, even though they study different mediums. Kylo frowns disapprovingly as he noisily sets up his easel and supplies. Kylo sighs as the chatter in the room increases, Phasma is late today. Poe sits at the professor's desk at the side of the room, scrolling through his phone and glancing up at the door every few seconds. Kylo fidgets idly with this phone while he waits. How much longer is he going to have to put up with these studio sessions? They eat into his valuable time, time that could be better spent on his sculpture project, or his art history assignments. Maybe he’ll go see Sloane tomorrow and try to beg his way out of it. He can show her the drawings from the last few classes, maybe it’ll be enough to convince her.

The door to the studio opens and closes with a quiet click. Kylo looks up from his phone and gasps, loud enough that Finn gives him the side-eye. The singularly most beautiful creature he’s ever set eyes upon has just entered the studio. The man places his grey messenger bag down upon the desk and drapes his burgundy trench over the back of the chair. He shakes Poe’s hand as they speak quietly, heads together. Kylo strains to hear what they’re whispering about, but the room is buzzing with too much energy for Kylo to make out anything.

The man gathers his bag and goes to a small supply room behind the desk. Poe ascends the low plinth in the middle of the room. He waits for the class to quiet down. Kylo quickly slips his phone back into his pocket and peeks around the edge of his easel. Finally, something interesting is going to happen in this boring waste of time class.

“Phasma couldn’t make it tonight,” Poe drawls, “so we have a new model for you to work with. Some of you may have already worked with him before as he mainly models for the upper-level drawing courses.”

From the front row, Mitaka perks up, grinning like a fool. He’s obviously already familiar with the new model. Kylo spends a second hating Mitaka then his attention is drawn to the door behind the professor’s desk. The man finally emerges, now dressed in a navy dressing gown.

In that instant, Kylo’s world tilts on its axis and Poe’s voice completely fades from is awareness. He’s suddenly very thankful he’s sitting behind his easel. The silky fabric falls to the man’s knees but it clings deliciously in all the right places. It pulls tight across his narrow shoulders, hugging the curves of his hips and thighs. The robe gaps the slightest bit at the neck and the tempting lines of the man’s neck and collarbones are barely visible. Finn clears his throat pointedly which drags Kylo’s attention back to Poe’s breezy voice.

“For those of you who haven’t had the pleasure, this is Hux.”

Hux. Kylo isn’t sure if that’s a first name or last, but either way, he’s intrigued. The man, Hux, approaches the plinth and stands at the edge, waiting for Poe to call him up.

“Since this is an open session to students and members of the public of all ages, we won’t be doing any nude drawings tonight,” Poe continues.

The giggly girls across from Kylo sigh dramatically. He privately agrees with them, Hux is a vision of loveliness. He probably looks even better wearing even less. Poe beckons Hux up and onto the plinth. Kylo can’t help but notice the sweet, delectable curve of his backside as he steps up.

“Kylo,” Finn hisses from beside him, “be cool, man, jeez.”

Realizing that he’s staring, Kylo dives back behind his easel to hide himself from view. Hux takes up his position in the centre of the low platform as Poe steps down and retrieves his phone from the desk. He taps a few numbers into the phone then looks around at the class.

“We’ll start with some drawing sprints to warm up, a couple minutes for each pose, and then we’ll move into more complicated poses with props and things. Okay?”

The class nods, eager to begin. Hux shucks off his robe and drapes it in a corner of the plinth. Kylo and the giggly girls groan in unison - just as Kylo predicted, he’s even more lovely without his clothes. His fine, pale skin is lightly dusted with freckles. They cluster around his shoulders and trail off like a starburst towards his hips. His legs are long and shapely, ending in surprisingly dainty ankles and delicately arched feet. Kylo closes his eyes and swallows heavily. As if to further fluster Kylo, Hux is wearing little black briefs that hug his curves like a dream. Somehow, it’s even more indecent than if he was fully nude.

Hux moves his lissome body into his first position as Poe presses a button on his phone to start the timer.

“Begin.” Poe directs them, and they jump into action.

\----

The two and a half hours fly by and Kylo barely notices. When Poe calls time, he sits up from his easel and arches back into a deeply satisfying stretch. He flexes his hands and fingers, pleased with how the class has gone. Wiping his hands on his jeans, Kylo flips through his completed sketches. Kylo managed to capture his grace with long flowing lines so that Hux’s lithe form leaps off the page. He moves like a dancer, all long lines and artful poses, dynamic and powerful, it's breathtaking to watch.

The other students hurry to pack away their supplies and return their easels to the corner. Hux has disappeared back into the storage room to change. Kylo clears away his drawing implements and shuffles his drawings into a tidy pile. The topmost drawing is Kylo’s favourite: Hux had contorted himself into some sort of complicated yoga pose, and Kylo captured his movements with bold, sweeping lines. It’s a good drawing. For Kylo, this was a productive session, more so than any of the others.

By now, most of the other students have drifted out of the room and off to their evening activities. Finn had dashed out, saying something about needing to monitor an overnight experiment, and finally, it was just Kylo, Mitaka, and a couple of the older students remaining.

Kylo takes his time packing away his drawings and tidying away his easel. Professor Sloane’s words echo in his head as he slips the last drawing into his portfolio. _Find yourself a muse._

He thinks maybe he has. Would Hux be agreeable though? Kylo isn’t so sure; he seems a little prickly and impatient, for all that he’s an exceptional model, he appears to have a lot of sharp edges. He didn’t speak to anyone but Poe, barely cracked a smile. Kylo is uncertain how receptive he’ll be when Kylo proposes they work together outside these studio classes.

Kylo stands and slings his portfolio case over his shoulder. He gathers his jacket from the back of the chair and slowly makes his way toward Hux, who is speaking with Mitaka in hushed tones. As Kylo draws closer, their conversation heats up.

“For the last time, Dopheld, I can’t model privately for you, I just don’t have the time this semester.”

Both Kylo and Mitaka visibly deflate at Hux’s clipped words. Kylo’s shoulders slump as Mitaka continues to press his case with Hux, who is resolute in the face of Mitaka’s wheedling. As Kylo tries to slink by them, wanting nothing more than to slip away to the studio and mourn what could have been, he happens to look up to see Hux watching him. Hux’s bright green eyes flit over Kylo’s face and his mouth curls up in a small smile. He nods to Kylo as he slides past.

Floating out of the room, Kylo’s hope is restored. Maybe all is not lost. Maybe if presents his case to Hux with confidence, shows Hux how absolutely imperative it is that they work together, he’ll somehow agree.

He’s already back at his studio, seated at his workbench when he realizes he doesn’t have any way to contact Hux. He doesn’t know which faculty Hux is in, if he’ll be at the next class, or even what his first name is.

Kylo thumps his head down on the table. Great, just perfect. The muse of his dreams just walked himself into Kylo’s classroom and he didn’t even think to get his number, or at least an email address. He debates finding Poe to ask after Hux, but decides that’s probably some sort of ethics violation. He’ll have to wait until Friday’s class to see Hux again. _Please be in the next class,_ Kylo pleads silently to any and all deities listening, _I need this._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Kylo arrives early for the next studio class, it’s only because he’s finished up his Theory of Contemporary Design homework early and figures he may as well get set up for his studio time. And if he decides to set up his easel in the front row instead of the back, well it’s merely because the light is better there. It has nothing to do with the new model, Hux, and his lovely face. And beautiful green eyes. And long legs.
> 
> Absolutely nothing at all.

If Kylo arrives early for the next studio class, it’s only because he’s finished up his Theory of Contemporary Design homework early and figures he may as well get set up for his studio time. And if he decides to set up his easel in the front row instead of the back, well it’s merely because the light is better there. It has nothing to do with the new model, Hux, and his lovely face. And beautiful green eyes. And long legs.

Absolutely nothing at all.

Kylo doesn’t even know if Hux will be back for tonight’s class. His gaze darts hopefully toward the door each time it clatters open. First it’s just other students, then Finn, fresh from his lab, then Poe. Finn takes one look at Kylo perched in the front row and rolls his eyes. Kylo shrugs his shoulders, only slightly abashed. He has to take this chance though, he hasn’t felt this kind of energy in a long time. Usually he’s only full of this kind of nervous tension and ideas when he’s developing plans for a new sculpture, but he’s never felt this way about simple life drawing assignments.

By now, most of the class has assembled and Poe is handing around a list of supplies they’ll need for the next class. The studio door opens one last time, Kylo peaks around the edge of his easel. His stomach flip-flops at the sight of Hux making his way into the room. He looks as beautiful as he did last class. Hux’s red hair is swept back from his face in such soft looking waves that Kylo is almost overcome with the need to run his fingers through it. His slim, dark jeans and deep green t-shirt draw Kylo’s eye immediately to his long legs and delicate wrists.

Hux sets down his bag and jacket on the desk and threads his way through the assembled students towards Poe. As he passes by Kylo, a faint smile plays around his lips and he nods a greeting. Kylo’s face heats up. He can feel the giddy, embarrassed flush bloom across his cheeks and up to his traitorous ears - why did he wear his hair pulled back today!

Kylo crosses his arms and slouches down in his seat, hoping that Hux doesn’t notice the blush. Hux speaks quietly with Poe for a minute then slips into the side room to change.

“Okay, class,” Poe claps his hands once for attention, “today we’ll be doing our usual warm-up, and then we’ll move into gestures, and then three half-hour poses. Sound good?”

The noise level of the class rises to a dull roar as the other students chat amongst themselves and finish setting up their stations. Hux exits the storage room after a few minutes, and strides across the room to take up his place on the plinth. The late evening sun pours through the arched windows set high upon the wall at the end of the room. The warm sun glints off Hux’s hair, burnishing it a deep orange-red. The play of the light across Hux’s body was glorious: one moment he is all sharp angles and edges, then with the slightest shift of his body, he’s all generous curves and softness. Kylo can’t decide if he wants to place reverential kisses all over the curve of Hux’s hip, or leave bite marks. Both probably. Both sound good to him.

As Hux takes his place on the small stage, Poe frowns a bit at the bright light falling across Hux’s face.

“Should I angle the blinds so the sun isn’t on your face?”

Before Hux can answer, Kylo whirls around on his stool.

“No!” He blurts out, unthinking, “I mean, if it’s okay with Hux, could you leave the light, it looks so good on him.” Someone off to Kylo’s right giggles and he blushes, realizing what he’s said. “Ah, I mean, the light is optimal for drawing right now, we should really take advantage of it.”

Kylo hides behind his easel again, cheeks and ears aflame. A delicate cough comes from the direction of the plinth. Kylo peeks up to see Hux smothering a smile behind his hand, his eyes shining.

“Okay…?” Poe drags out the word, questioningly. “Hux, are you alright with that?”

Hux lets his hand drop from his mouth as he arches an eyebrow in Kylo’s direction.

“Yes, I’m fine with it.”

Kylo debates whether it’s too late in the year to transfer to the history department. He could study Etruscan Italy, transfer to a university far, far away from this embarrassing situation, and never see any of these people ever again. As he ponders whether or not a year abroad is a good idea, Poe passes by his work space, tapping him on the shoulder as he goes. Kylo shakes himself and glances up at Hux. He swallows back a quiet gasp when he locks eyes with Hux. He flushes again, knowing that Hux’s eyes had been on him the entire time. Scrambling around, he snatches up a stick of charcoal and hurries to catch up with the rest of the class. A low chuckle floats over to him from the direction of the plinth. Kylo darts a shifty glance to Hux. When he sees Hux’s eyes sparkling with pent-up laughter, a relieved grin inches across his face. He exhales and grins more broadly, settling down to work.

Maybe he won’t transfer departments just yet.

\----

After an hour, Poe calls for a break. Hux needs time to stretch and relax for a few minutes before the class continues. Most of Kylo’s classmates use the break to make a run for coffee, or out for a cigarette, or to the washroom to wash the charcoal from their hands.

Kylo stays in his seat, arching into a deep backbend, sighing with satisfaction when his joints pop. Shaking out his hands, he studies the last drawing on his easel. It’s his favourite so far. Hux had turned his back to Kylo, which he’s pretty sure Hux did on purpose so that Kylo was forced to look at his perfect arse, his body curved in a gentle arc to the right, his head tipped gracefully to the side. Poe had instructed them to add something new to the picture, so Kylo had given Hux a grand set of antlers, reminiscent of a forest god. He quite likes how the picture turned out.

“That’s interesting, the way you added the antlers.”

Kylo gasps, twisting quickly on his stool, nearly unseating his easel in the process. Hux stands at his shoulder, gazing intently at Kylo’s drawing, blue bathrobe draped around his shoulders like a greatcoat.

“Thank you,” Kylo stammers, face flushing again, “Ah, the model is quite easy to work with.”

With that brilliant observation, Kylo gives up attempting to make conversation and just gapes up at Hux helplessly. Hux smirks and glances back at the paper, smirk broadening as he takes in the finer details of the drawing - the way Kylo laboured over depicting the muscles pulled taut in his back, the sweet curves of his backside, his long legs ending in delicately arched feet.

Hux looks back at Kylo. His eyes narrow suddenly and his hands come up to cup Kylo’s face gently. Kylo sucks in his breath as all his sense narrow down to the few points of contact between himself and Hux. He rubs his thumb over Kylo’s cheekbone a couple times.

“You have a smudge of charcoal on your face.”

“Oh.” Kylo says faintly as Hux’s hands drift away from his face and he returns to his spot on the platform. The noise in the room rises from the snowed out fuzz to more normal levels. Kylo’s heart races, he clenches his hands on his knees to stop the tremors.

He has to have Hux for a muse. He has to convince him to model for him, or at least give him a chance. As Poe calls the class to attention again, Hux lets the robe fall from his narrow shoulders, Kylo makes up his mind. All he can do is try.

\----

At the end of the class, Kylo once again dawdles putting away his supplies, waiting for the other students to take their leave. He’d rather not be rejected by Hux in front of a room full of people. Hux has changed and now stands chatting quietly with Poe. Kylo hoists his portfolio case over his shoulder and slinks closer to the two men. Poe, seeing his less than stealthy approach, raises his eyebrows in question.

“Good work today, Kylo, Professor Sloane is going to be very impressed with your progress.” Hux turns and glances demurely over his shoulder at Kylo as Poe continues. “Did you have a question?”

“Ah, thank you,” Kylo darts a glance at Hux, “I was hoping to talk to Hux for a second?”

Poe turns to Hux, who nods his agreement. Poe shakes his hand before gathering up his own portfolio case and backpack.

“So you and Phasma are okay with switching sessions?”

Hux nods. “The Thursday morning class works better with her schedule and rowing practice.”

“That’s fine with me, see you Friday then.” Poe nods to both Hux and Kylo and heads out of the studio, leaving the door propped open just in case.

Hux fixes his attention on Kylo. When Kylo fails to say anything, he raises his eyebrow in expectancy.

“You had something to ask me?”

His lilting voice rouses Kylo from his woolgathering. Hux was even more beautiful up close. His eyelashes were unfairly lush and long, and he had an adorable spray of freckles across the bridge of his nose.

“Yes, sorry,” Kylo says haltingly, “I was hoping that you’d-I can pay you of course. No, shit, I didn’t mean it like that. Would you, possibly, ever, consider modeling for me? Outside of these sessions, I mean.”

He breaks off breathlessly and bites his lip, looking at Hux pleadingly. Hux smiles gently and opens his mouth to reply but Kylo cuts him off.

“I know you said you didn’t have time, but could you just look at my portfolio for a second.” He sets the case on the desk and begins to unzip it. “It’s just that I’ve done some of my best work like, ever, in the sessions that you’ve been the model, and I think you might be my muse. Here, look.”

Kylo flips quickly to the first few pages where other people had modeled for the class. He slowly pages through them, showing Hux that, while his technique is solid, there’s something lacking in the earlier drawings. He then flips to the pages done in Hux’s modeling sessions. Hux raises his eyebrows in surprise. These drawings, in bold, sweeping lines, create a sense of energy The figures are dynamic, bold, moving freely and joyfully across the page. It’s obvious to Kylo, as it should be obvious even to a non-artist like Hux, that something changed between the earlier classes and the last few.

“See, I need you. Professor Sloane won’t let me apply for grad school until I work on my figure drawing.”

Kylo gazes at Hux, beseechingly, willing him to say yes. Hux flips through the portfolio again, lingering over the drawings from today’s class.

“I don’t have a lot of spare time--”

“I know,” Kylo breaks in, “we can fit it in around your schedule. Anytime, day or night, I don’t care.”

Hux’s gaze roams over Kylo’s flushed face, taking in his messy top knot, rosy, bitten lips, pleading eyes. He smiles.

“Alright, we can try it for a week or two, but only because you’re kind of a mess and you clearly need my help.”

Kylo exhales noisily, shoulders slumping.

“Thank you, Hux, that’s all I’m asking for. Just a chance.”

Kylo’s hands tremble as he enters his number into Hux’s phone. They arrange to meet at Kylo’s studio the following night at 9:30 when Hux’s late class is done. They leave the studio together and Hux bids him goodnight at the door, then exiting the building. Kylo practically levitates up to the third floor to his studio and swoons down upon his sofa.

He did it, he smiles to himself. He found his muse, and he’ll be here tomorrow at 9:30 pm.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo fusses around in his small corner of the studio, pushing the sofa to one side, clearing his books off the window ledge. Now he’s just waiting on pins and needles for Hux to arrive. He’d obsessively checked and re-checked his phone all day, torn between hoping that Hux wouldn’t cancel, and hoping he would. Hux probably thought he was a disaster and was just helping him out of pity.

Kylo fusses around in his small corner of the studio, pushing the sofa to one side, clearing his books off the window ledge. Now he’s just waiting on pins and needles for Hux to arrive. He’d obsessively checked and re-checked his phone all day, torn between hoping that Hux wouldn’t cancel, and hoping he would. Hux probably thought he was a disaster and was just helping him out of pity. 

He peers out the window again. The campus below is fairly deserted, most classes having ended by now and many students heading home for the night. He checked his phone one more time. Nine twenty-eight. Two more minutes until Hux was due to arrive. Kylo tosses his phone onto the sofa and collapses back upon the stool, his leg jiggling nervously. A couple spaces over, Mara, the only other student in the studio at this late hour, sighs noisily and glares at him. When Kylo fails to acknowledge her exasperated sighs, she makes a loud production of putting on her headphones and cranking up the volume. The tinny sounds of Royal Blood float over to Kylo’s corner. He ignores Mara and leaps up to check his easel one more time. All his favourite drawing implements are laid out, tidy and orderly, and a stack of his best fine-grained paper is perched upon the easel, ready for use.

His phone trills and he lunges for it. A message from Hux saying he was on his way. Kylo flings himself down upon the sofa to wait. He nervously scrolls through his twitter feed, then through Instagram, and is onto his emails when he hears the studio door creak open. Kylo lurches to his feet, nearly tripping to the floor in his eagerness. Barreling out of his studio corner, he sees Hux waiting uncertainly by the main door, examining the room with wide eyes.

“Hux, over here!” Kylo rushes over to him. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“I can only stay for an hour, I have a paper due next week.”

“That’s totally fine, I’m glad you could make it at all. I know you said you were busy.” Aware that he’s babbling, Kylo takes a deep breath to try to calm his racing pulse. “My space is this way.”

With a light guiding touch to Hux’s back, he directs him towards the corner of the room that comprises Kylo’s domain. He waves at Mara as they pass, she salutes him sarcastically with her paint brush and adjusts her headphones.

Kylo ushers Hux into his studio corner and draws the floral-patterned curtain across part of the doorway, allowing Hux for a little privacy should he chose to strip down. Kylo was glad of the curtain now, even if it had made him look unfriendly and standoffish when he installed it in September. And even though Mara is a little prickly, he’s glad she’s in the studio tonight, he wants Hux to feel safe. Hopefully with her presence, and the curtain, Hux will feel at ease.

With the curtains closed, cocooning them safely in Kylo’s tidy studio, he turns to Hux nervously.

“Um, I guess we should get started? Since you don’t have too much time tonight?”

“Absolutely,” Hux sets his bag down on the sofa and removes his coat. “How do you want me?”

Kylo rubs his clammy palms on his jeans then tucks his heavy hair behind his ears. “Ah, do you feel comfortable doing the same thing as the studio classes? Just in your boxers, I mean?” He moves back to stand by his easel, to give Hux some space. “But if that’s not cool with you, that’s fine, obviously.”

“I think that’s alright, it’s warm in here, I’ll be fine.” Hux smiles as his hands drop to the buttons of his jeans. He kicks his black Converse off and pushes them to the side. He slid his jeans down his long, long legs. He arches his eyebrow as Kylo blushes and looks at his feet.

“Kylo, just relax.”

Kylo fiddles with the charcoal stubs on his easel, arranging them in order of height, before dragging his eyes up to meet Hux’s slightly smirking face. He grasps the hem of his black t-shirt and pulls it up and over his head in one graceful, smooth movement. 

“Ah,” Kylo scrambles for something to say in the face of Hux’s amusement. “Did you see Oh Wonder when they played the Imperial last time.” He nods to the neatly folded t-shirt in Hux’s hands. Hux tosses the shirt over to the sofa.

“I did, actually, it was a great show. Did you go too?”

“Nah, I didn’t get around to buying tickets in time. Maybe next time.”

Kylo frowns up at the overhead light, nerves dissipating as the itch to draw starts to take over. The harsh light is all wrong for Hux’s pale skin and ruddy hair. He hauls two studio lights over and positions them around Hux. Once switched on, they provide a much more pleasant, flattering light for his work. “Okay, I think we’re ready to go.”

Hux nods his readiness and falls into an easy, relaxed pose to start with. Kylo takes his place at his easel and they begin. As they work, Hux takes up more and more elaborate, elegant poses, pushing Kylo hard. Hux shifts from pose to pose with such fluidity that Kylo is positive that he must have studied dance at some point in his life. They work quickly, making the most of their hour together.

When ten thirty arrives, Hux rolls his shoulders to work out the knots, sighing.

“Let me just get dressed then you can show me what you drew tonight. If you want to.”

Kylo nods. He’s never been terribly shy about his work, but something about Hux makes Kylo want to impress him. As Hux pulls his clothes on, Kylo transfers his stack of drawings to his worktable. He’ll have to treat them later but for now, he shuffles some tracing paper in between each sketch to keep the charcoal from smudging too much.

“Well, let’s see.”

Hux materializes at his side, leaning into his shoulder so that Kylo can feel the warmth of his body against his. He exhales a shuddery breath, enjoying Hux’s closeness far too much. They’ve only known each other for a scant two weeks - is it too soon to be feeling this much this fast? Kylo isn’t sure.

Turning to the first sketch, they peruse them slowly, Hux making little impressed noises at each new drawing. Some pages were full-body sketches of Hux, but others were just short studies of a particular part of his body - the way Hux’s foot arches delicately into a point, or the turn of his shoulders.

“These are excellent, Kylo, but you’re too kind to me. There’s no way I look this beautiful.”

Kylo gaps down at Hux. Is he serious? Has he never looked at himself in a mirror?

“Ah, I just draw what I see.” He whispers, his cheeks heating up again. Hux smiles his usual smirky, little smile, but his eyes are soft when he glances over at Kylo.

His nerves had settled once they had begun working but now, so close to Hux, the butterflies have swarmed back in multitudes. They work so well together already, already so in tune with each other. Hux instinctively knows how to move, how to best challenge Kylo with every turn. Kylo is eager to push himself harder to capture Hux’s energy on the page.

“Your professor is going to be pleased with your progress, I think.” Hux smiles up at him. “I should get going though, I have to catch the train.” Hux gathers up his bag and jacket. “When did you want to meet next?”

“I’ll text you, but how about we say next Monday or Tuesday?”

Kylo escorts Hux to the door of the studio. He holds the door open as Hux shrugs on his jacket and rearranges his bag over his shoulder.

“I look forward to it.” He smiles then turns and heads down the stairs. “See you soon, Kylo.” His voice floats back to Kylo from the stairwell.

Kylo leans against the doorframe, listening to Hux’s light step on the stairs, until he hears the heavy outer door thunder closed. Hux is gone. He sighs and heads back to his work space to clean up. He moves the floodlights back to their spot in the corner, the easel following shortly after. Returning to his work bench, Kylo flips through the sketches again. They really are quite good, he thinks.

“Kylo,” Mara appears at his side, “these are gorgeous.” She shuffles through the sketches, stopping at one that is only Hux’s face. His lush, full lips rendered in careful detail, his expressive eyes drawing the viewer in. “Oh honey, you’re in big trouble. You’ve got it bad.”

Kylo groans. “I know, Mara, I know.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hmm, no, still not right.”
> 
> Hux exhales irritably. “Kylo, just position me then, I have no idea what you want me to do.”
> 
> Kylo sits bolt upright. “Are you sure?” He leans around the edge of the easel to check Hux’s reaction.
> 
> Hux nods, waving him over. “I’m sure.”

“Hmm, no, still not right.”

Hux exhales irritably. “Kylo, just position me then, I have no idea what you want me to do.”

Kylo sits bolt upright. “Are you sure?” He leans around the edge of the easel to check Hux’s reaction.

Hux nods, waving him over. “I’m sure.”

Wiping his hands nervously on his jeans, Kylo bites his lip at the thought of actually touching Hux, of putting his big, clumsy hands on Hux’s delicate frame.

“Kylo, what are you waiting for?”

Hux’s stern tone spurs him to action and he leaps up from his stool. He comes around behind Hux, pausing for a moment to collect himself.

“Okay, I’m going to move your leg now. Is that alright?”

Hux nods. He stands calmly, loosely, in front of Kylo, trusting him completely. Kylo slides his hand carefully down Hux’s thigh, pressing a little to move his leg into the position he has in mind. He then angles Hux’s shoulders with a light touch of his fingertips. His hand glides down the underside of Hux’s arm to also position it correctly. With his left hand, he reaches around to ghost the tips of his fingers along Hux’s soft jawline so that he turns to look up over his shoulder at Kylo. Hux gazes up into Kylo’s face, his green eyes luminous and his lips curving upwards in a gentle smile. Kylo drops a lingering glance to those luscious lips, which quirk suddenly into a smirk. Kylo drags his eyes back up to meet Hux’s, who regards him with a raised eyebrow. He tips his chin up slightly, lips parting in a quiet sigh. Kylo sways closer to Hux’s warmth, wanting so badly to take the mouth that he’s fairly certain is being offered to him. A sudden clatter from elsewhere in the studio reminds him that they’re not alone.

“Sorry,” he whispers, stepping quickly away from Hux. Hux’s shoulders seem to slump slightly as he steps away. But it could have just been wishful thinking.

Resettling himself at the easel, he takes up his charcoal again. He peers around the edge of the paper at Hux and smiles.

“Perfect, Hux, you look perfect like that.”

A becoming flush pinks Hux’s cheeks. He visibly gathers himself and extends his pose right to the tips of his toes and fingertips. He holds steady, unwavering until Kylo murmurs that he’s done. Hux drops his arms and rolls his shoulders, stretching his tired muscles.

“What time is it?” He inquires as he comes to stand beside Kylo to examine the sketch. Kylo slips his phone from his pocket.

“Oh, shit, it’s past midnight.”

“Well, fucking hell, I had to work on a couple assignments at the library. I guess that’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

He throws himself onto the sofa and looks annoyed that he lost track of time. Kylo can’t help but feel guilty, but they had had such a good flow going, he himself hadn’t thought to check the time. He dusts off his hands and comes over to sink down on the sofa beside Hux. His stomach flutters as Hux unconsciously shifts closer so that they’re pressed hip to hip. Hux’s underthings are surprisingly delicate and pretty tonight, Kylo had a hard time tearing his eyes away from how perfectly the silk hugged Hux’s curves.

“Um, well, you can always do your assignments here. We all have keys to the studio and it’s open all night. The wifi is pretty reliable.” Kylo looks down at the way their legs are pressed together. “Or we could go to my place, I don’t live far.” He finishes with a mumble, not quite looking at Hux.

“I don’t know, I could just go home I suppose.” Hux looks unconvinced. He stretches his long, slender legs out across Kylo’s knees and lounges against his side. “Why should I go home with you? Convince me.”

“Well, ah, my flat is more comfortable than the studio?”

“Are you telling me, or asking me if it’s more comfortable?”

“Ha, yeah.” Kylo laughs nervously and scrubs his hand through his hair. He tries again, with false bravado. “I’m telling you. My flat is so amazing you’ll never want to leave.”

Hux slowly raises one eyebrow, a sardonic smile curling his lips. “I’ll be the judge of that.” He grins a little at Kylo’s blush as he insinuates himself into Kylo’s side. “What else?”

“Reliable wifi.”

“Pass. That’s boring,” Hux snorts, “next?”

“Fuck, Hux, I don’t know!” Kylo drums his fingers absently on Hux’s knee. “There’s a diner around the corner from the flat that’s open twenty-four hours--”

“That’s more like it, go on.”

“It serves the best waffles you’ll ever have.” He looks down into Hux’s wide eyes. “Bottomless coffee.”

“Why didn’t you lead with that, honestly!”

Hux unwraps himself from Kylo and sets about gathering his clothing. Kylo watches with regret as Hux pulls his jeans on, mourning the loss of all that glorious warm skin pressed against him. Hux slips his black t-shirt over his head and sinks back down to the sofa to adjust the cuffs on his jeans. He rolls the cuffs up above his ankles and slips his feet into his shoes. Tonight he wears an expensive pair of mahogany brogues rather than his usual black Converse trainers.

Thus armored, Hux hauls Kylo to his feet and pushes his leather jacket into his hands. He scoops up his own burgundy trench and bag while Kylo put away his supplies. Tucking away his easel, wrapping up his charcoal, and safely storing tonight’s sketches, Kylo turns to see Hux waiting for him - messenger bag over one shoulder, Kylo’s portfolio case slung over the other.

“Ready to go?”

Kylo can’t help the big, giddy smile that spreads across his flushed face. He nods happily.

“Yeah, but here, give me the portfolio, you don’t have to carry it.”

Hux dances out of Kylo’s reach and hugs the case tighter to his side.

“Nonsense. Now, take me to these mind-blowing waffles.”

Without waiting, Hux heads out of the studio, leaving Kylo to scramble after him. As he leaves, Mara looks up from her canvas and shakes her head at him. He shrugs helplessly. The studio door slams behind Hux and Kylo hurries after him, smirking to himself when he catches sight of Mitaka gaping after Hux like a hooked fish. Before the door swings shut behind him, Mitaka’s despondent voice floats after him.

“He said he was too busy to model for me.”

“Oh, darlin’,” Mara laughs, “you didn’t stand a chance.”

Kylo wraps his jacket tighter around himself, laughing out loud. He hurries toward Hux, who waits at the bottom of the stairs, quizzical smile on his own face.

“What are you giggling about?”

“Nothing at all, Hux.” He slips his hand into the crook of Hux’s elbow. “Come on, waffles and homework await.”

\----

“Kylo, good Lord.” Hux hisses in the gloom of Montague Mews. “How do you afford this place?”

“It was my mother’s childhood home.” Kylo murmurs as his fumbles with the keys, trying to get the door open - the darkness of the night and his haste to have Hux inside make his hands clumsy.

The lock clicks open with a tidy _snick_ , and Kylo pushes the pastel blue door open, reaching for the light switch. He flicks it on and the narrow entryway is illuminated dimly. The light from the small chandelier that hugs the ceiling dapples them with light as the small crystals rustle in the breeze from the open door.

He motions for Hux to enter. Hux presses against Kylo as he enters the flat through the narrow doorway. He allows his hip to brush against Kylo, a coy smile on his lips as he goes, eyes half-lidded in the dim light. Kylo swallows audibly as the heat from Hux’s body is all-too briefly pressed against him. Then Hux is gone, moving away from him down the crooked hallway toward the front parlour. He deposits Kylo’s portfolio case just inside the door and gazes around the room.

Kylo comes up behind Hux. Reaching through the door, he turns on one of the floor lamps that’s nestled in the corner of the room near the parlour entrance. 

“Kylo, this is incredible,” Hux breathes as he tears his eyes away from the room and back to Kylo’s flushed face. “Is it alright if I go in?”

He nods, then follows Hux into the parlour. Kylo had turned the room into another studio and the walls were papered with sketches and half-formed plans for sculptures. Hux peruses the drawings tacked up along the back wall, leaning close to squint at Kylo’s spidery notes scrawled on each page. Kylo moves around the room, turning on the other lamps to further brighten the space. Hux examines the paintings stacked upon an easel and on the drafting table near the windows. He comes to a stop in front of the workbench that sits behind the small sofa near the cold fireplace. He examines the various pieces of Kylo’s latest project, without reaching out to touch. There are some found objects, a stack of folded silk, yellowed with age, several spools of black and red ribbons, and a small bronze cast, all ready and waiting for Kylo to sit down and finish the project.

“Kylo,” Hux’s voice is low and intimate, “you’re amazing, do you know that? Do you have finished pieces you can show me.” He casts a look around the room, obviously devoid of large finished sculptural pieces. “Maybe some photos or something?”

Kylo glows with Hux’s praise. He blushes at the admiring look on Hux’s face and nervously tucks his hair behind his ear.

“Ah, yes, hang on.”

He guides Hux around the workbench to the sofa. Hux sinks down upon the threadbare cushions and lounges back against the pillows, looking completely at home. Kylo crosses to the bookshelf, inset into the wall beside the fireplace, and selects a thin portfolio binder from the crush of books packed into the bookshelf. He comes back to the sofa and sits beside Hux, but not too close, he’s still unsure what’s going on between them. Hux shifts so that their shoulders brush gently each time Kylo flips a page in the portfolio.

Kylo shows Hux his finished sculptures from his first two years at the Slade School, as well as some of the pictures of the pieces in progress. When he flips to a page showing a statue completely wrapped in white silk and black and red ribbons, Hux stays his hand.

“Is that,” he pauses and looks closely at the page, “is that the statue of Churchill outside Westminster?”

Kylo huffs a nervous laugh. “Yeah, I nearly got arrested for that.”

“You fabric-bombed Churchill?” Hux’s face is the picture of incredulity.

“I did,” Kylo smiles, “it was my second year art project. I fabric-bombed a few statues around the city, but Churchill was the biggest prize.”

“How did I not hear about this? It should have been the talk of the school!”

Kylo shrugs. “They took it down pretty quickly, I think. And then Sloane didn’t really want me to include the photo in any shows, but I think she was being pressured by the faculty head. She’d never stifle me like that.”

“Hmm, that’s unfortunate. Isn’t art supposed to push the boundaries?”

“It is, until funding is at stake, I think.” Kylo rolls his eyes.

Hux makes a sympathetic noise as he continues to page through Kylo’s small portfolio. He flips through to the last page and sits back, an impressed look on his face. 

“Amazing work, Kylo,” he proclaims, handing the book back to Kylo, “why are you spending so much time drawing me when you’re already so accomplished?”

Kylo ducks his head, pleased with the praise. He fiddles with the edge of the book before setting it beside him on the sofa. “Well, some of the sketches will be in my drawing portfolio, but some I’m planning to use to design a new sculpture.” He pauses, suddenly nervous. “If that’s alright with you, Hux?”

“Of course it is,” Hux smiles, leaning companionably into Kylo’s side, “but only if you invite me to opening night when you eventually show at the Venice Biennale.”

“Who else would I take to Venice but my muse?”

Sitting up with a pleased chuckle, Hux fixes him with a bold look. “And, you can call me Armitage, if you want, my friends do.”

“Oh,” Kylo’s face warms, “you consider me a friend now?” Hux nods, a small smile on his face. Kylo suddenly grins mischievously. “Can I call you ‘Armie’ for short?”

Hux narrows his eyes and all but hisses at him. He grabs a handful of Kylo’s shirt, hauling him forward so that they’re nose to nose. “Don’t you dare, or I’ll go model for Mitaka.”

“You wouldn’t?!” Kylo is momentarily horrified until he sees the grin twitching at the corner of Hux’s lovely lips. An answering smile blooms across his face. “How would you know where to find the best waffles in Marylebone if you abandoned me for Mitaka? He thinks Costa is an acceptable place for breakfast.”

“How vile.”

Hux shudders at the idea of a dry, on-its-way-to-being-stale cinnamon twist and burnt coffee, then he smiles softly at Kylo, letting the silence drop over them like a cloak. They stay close, inches apart, Hux’s hands still entwined in Kyo’s shirt. It would only take a small movement, just the lifting of his head, and Kylo would be kissing Hux’s rosy lips.

Hux sways fractionally closer, his eyes wide and glittering in the low lamp-light. Then he sighs, pressing his forehead against Kylo’s.

“Come on, it’s getting late.” He sits up, a complicated frown marring his forehead. He lets go of Kylo’s shirt, gently brushing his fingers down Kylo’s chest to smooth out the wrinkles caused by his grip. “I need to get a start on my annotated bibliography, and I think you said you had reading to do?”

Kylo nods, trying not to look too disappointed. He stands, offering his hand to Hux, who takes it. Pulling him to his feet, Hux over-balances and wobbles slightly. Kylo’s free hand goes automatically to his waist to steady him. Hux allows himself to sways gently into Kylo’s body.

“Lead the way.” He whispers, not letting go of Kylo’s hand as they untangled themselves.

Kylo looks down at their joined hands, then back to Hux’s face. He looks lovely in the low light, glowing softly and lit from within, his hair glimmers brightly, his eyes hooded and dark. Kylo tightens his grip on Hux’s hand and tugs him carefully in the direction of the kitchen.

“This way,” he leads Hux out of the studio-parlour and into the sparsely furnished kitchen, “homework first, then waffles.”

“Perfect.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something is wrong. He’s warm, comfortable, and well-rested despite going to bed well after three in the morning.
> 
> \----
> 
> Hux spends the night and accidental bed-sharing happens. Cue uncertain Kylo, poor thing.

Something is wrong. He’s warm, comfortable, and well-rested despite going to bed well after three in the morning. Kylo tries to shift over onto his back but his arm must be asleep; it’s tingling and feels peculiarly heavy. He peels his eyes open, blinking against the bright morning light and the sleep crumbling in the corners of his eyes. He carefully tilts his head to the side and gets a mouthful of tousled red hair.

His eyes slam shut again. Carefully spitting Armitage’s hair from his mouth, Kylo tries to breathe deeply to calm his suddenly racing heart. The events of the small hours of the morning come crashing back in excruciating detail. It had been too late for Armitage to go home so he stayed the night. Kylo tried to insist he take the bed, that he - Kylo - would be just fine on the sofa in his studio, but Armitage would have none of it.

None of his clothes even came close to fitting Armitage, so while he changed into his usual pyjamas, Armitage simply stripped down to his delicate, black, lace boxers. Kylo squeezes his eyes tightly shut against the memory until splotches of colour swirl in his peripheral vision. The very thought of Armitage in all that lace sent him spinning. A delicious ache pulsed between his legs and he shifted, pressing his thighs together. _Not now_ , he thinks, willing the ache to subside, not with Armitage cradled so snugly in the curve of his body. He’d never live it down if Armitage awoke with Kylo’s very insistent morning erection pressing hard into his hip.

He distinctly remembers them on opposite sides of the bed when they fell asleep but apparently, one or both of them had migrated to the middle of the bed where they are now comfortably entwined. A little too comfortable, Kylo thinks. He shouldn’t let himself get used to this, but Armitage felt so right nestled in his arms.

What did this mean? Kylo’s fingers twitch and rub small, meditative circles against the smooth expanse of Armitage’s shoulder. Why was Armitage so happy to be around Kylo, so eager to please and be pleased by everything Kylo did? Probably, Kylo reasoned with himself, Armitage was just trying to make the modeling sessions flow smoothly. People as sleek, beautiful, and accomplished as Armitage didn’t tend to gravitate to Kylo, and if they did, they didn’t stick around for long. His hand convulsed and he gripped Armitage’s shoulder harder as he imagined the dreaded day that they no longer met in Kylo’s studio for drawing sessions. He buried his face in Armitage's hair, breathing deeply.

“If you’re quite finished having your existential crisis, I’m still trying to sleep here.”

Armitage’s voice rasps at him, roughened by sleep, from where his face was tucked into Kylo’s chest. Kylo wraps his free around Armitage’s shoulder, shivering when Armitage’s sleepy, warm sigh whispers over his skin as Armitage nestles closer. 

Kylo continues to absently rub his thumb over the sweet curve of Armitage’s shoulder blade, valiantly trying to ignore Armitage’s soft sighs and groans as he arches into Kylo’s touch. What did Armitage mean by his behaviour? The secretive, shy smiles. The almost-kisses. The general enjoyment he seems to derive from Kylo’s presence and their modeling sessions. Kylo decides to ask but Armitage’s voice rumbles up at him again.

“Kylo, just relax, everything is fine.”

“It’s eight.” He responds, unthinking. Stupid. Why couldn’t he just take Armitage’s advice and relax?

Armitage squawks and rolls out of Kylo’s arms to the floor, landing heavily on his feet.

“Why didn’t you wake me earlier? I have a class at half eight.”

“Sorry,” Kylo says dully, unsure if Armitage is truly angry with him, or just frantic about missing class. Or both.

“Well, come on.” Armitage barks at him as he hastily pulls on his clothes from yesterday. “We have to go.”

“But my class isn’t until ten.” Kylo snuggles back down in the blankets to hide his blushing face from Armitage.

Armitage whips the quilts off the bed as Kylo gasps. He confronts Kylo in nothing but his lacy underthings and a black t-shirt, hair in a fiery halo around his head and looking every inch like an avenging angel.

“Oh no,” Armitage tugs on Kylo’s hand, “I know for a fact you have an assignment due in two days that you haven’t started so get up.” He drops Kylo’s hand and dives for his foot, long fingers wrapping deftly around an ankle. Armitage digs in his heels and yanks Kylo toward the edge of the bed.

Kylo sneaks a glance at Armitage from beneath his tangled curls, unable to keep a smile from his lips. He rolls over onto his back and goes limp, laughing as Armitage tightens his grip on his ankle. He gasps as Armitage grabs the other foot as well and nearly hauls him off the bed.

“I can’t.” Kylo laughs as he oozes off the bed and onto the floor. “Gravity is pulling too hard on me today.”

“That’s not how gravity works!”

Armitage throws up his hands in exasperation and drags them down his face in mock frustration. He then hurriedly tugs his hair into some semblance of yesterday’s style. He snatches up his jeans from the floor and jerks them on. Thus dressed, he dashes from the bedroom toward the kitchen where his messenger bag and jacket wait.

“Kylo, love, let’s move. Come on!”

Kylo freezes. Did Armitage realize what he’s said? Kylo springs up from the floor and rushes around for his clothes. He thought about getting fresh clothes, but if Armitage was going to have to endure class in day-old clothes, so too would he.

Emerging from his bedroom, Kylo finds Armitage hastily lacing his brogues, jacket already on, messenger bag propped up beside the kitchen chair. He looks up when Kylo enters the kitchen, smirking at Kylo’s appearance, seemingly oblivious to his earlier slip of the tongue.

“Ah, solidarity?” He nods at Kylo’s rumpled clothes as he stands, slinging his bag over his shoulder to rest at his hip.

“Yeah, something like that.” Kylo mumbles, then smiles shyly at him.

Armitage starts forward, wrapping his hand around Kylo’s elbow. “Well, let’s go then.” As he tows Kylo toward the front door, Kylo barely has time to grab his own jacket and bag from the table as Armitage herds them out the door.

Armitage’s hand lingers on Kylo’s arm longer than necessary as he marches them down the pavement toward the station. Kylo sneaks a glance at him out of the corner of his eye, smiling at the determined frown on Armitage’s face. Neither says anything as Kylo presses Armitage's hand in closer to his side as they hurry to school.

\----

“Well, well, well.” Mara’s loud, clear voice rings out across the courtyard in front the Slade building. “What do we have here?”

Kylo freezes, Armitage's hand still hooked around his elbow. He hunches into himself and reluctantly turns to greet Mara, and Mitaka, as they stride across the plaza to meet them.

“Mara, what are do you doing out of your lair so early in the morning?”

“I could ask you the same thing, darlin’, but I think I already know the answer.”

She looks smugly between Kylo and Armitage, taking in their rumpled, day-old clothing, the satisfied smirk on Armitage’s face, Kylo’s blush. Mitaka has heartbreak writ large all over his face as his eyes zero in on Armitage’s delicate hand on Kylo’s arm. Kylo tries to tug his elbow away and Armitage releases him, but only after squeezing him reassuringly.

“There’s nothing untoward going on here, Mara.” Armitage regards her cooly, eyebrow cocked. “Your sculptor is safe with me.”

“‘Nothing untoward’,” Mara laughs as she parrots his words back at him, “Okay, Mr. Darcy, whatever you say. Just don’t break his heart or you’ll answer to me.”

Kylo’s face flushes while Armitage narrows his eyes for a moment, then smiles, as if pleased with her sharp yet affectionate tone.

“Kylo can take care of himself. No need to concern yourself.”

Mara grins at him as Mitaka looks like he’d prefer a hellmouth open up and swallow him rather than take part in this conversation. Armitage turns to Kylo, an apologetic look on his face.

“I have to get to class but I’ll see you later?”

Kylo nods. “I’ll text you.”

“I have a test in my Friday morning class.” Armitage turns with a long suffering look at Mara and Mitaka. “I have to study this week.”

With promises of future texts, and a coffee meet-up with Mara secured, Armitage hurries away across the courtyard, throwing a wave over his shoulder as he rushes to make it to class on time.

“Good Lord, Kylo.” Mara grins as they skip up the stairs to head into the studio. “He’s completely smitten with you.”

Mitaka groans. “How did you manage it? He’s so prickly and cold in the drawing classes.”

“I didn’t do anything.” Kylo holds the door open for them. “He’s just being nice and helping me with my portfolio.”

Mara stutters to a stop in the middle of the hallway, impervious to Mitaka’s curses when he walks into her. 

“Are you serious right now?”

Kylo stops to look back at her.

“What?”

She gazes at him for a moment, then sighs. 

“Come on, you sweet clueless lump you.” She links her arm with his. “And you, heartbreak kid.” She reaches back and tugs Mitaka forward. “Let’s go to the studio, we can talk about how to recognize the signs of flirting at lunch.”

She tows them to the studio to begin their day. Kylo allows himself to be lead, turning over the morning’s events, carefully dissecting them, trying to decide if Mara is correct. There’s no mistaking the affection in Armitage’s eyes when he looks at him. Kylo floats into the studio, his mind still on Armitage, his skin still tingling with his touch. He sits robotically at his workbench and pulls a sketch book toward himself and for a moment, he lets himself believe that maybe, just maybe, there might be something more to his unlikely friendship with Armitage.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armitage had texted on Friday afternoon to say his test had gone well, to which Kylo responded with a thumbs-up emoji, grinning because he knew Armitage despised communicating with emoticons. Armitage sent back a photo of himself with a disapproving frown on his face which caused Kylo to burst out laughing in the middle of his design theory class.
> 
> \----
> 
> If you thought they were smitten before, hold onto your hats.

Armitage had texted on Friday afternoon to say his test had gone well, to which Kylo responded with a thumbs-up emoji, grinning because he knew Armitage despised communicating with emoticons. Armitage sent back a photo of himself with a disapproving frown on his face which caused Kylo to burst out laughing in the middle of his design theory class.

He’s returning to the studio after his Tuesday Classical Archaeology lecture, visions of Greek statuary dancing in his eyes, fingers tingling with the urge to sketch out a new sculpture idea. Something inspired by the classical forms of the ancient world, he decides; the only thing that would do justice to Armitage’s beautiful form. He pushes through the studio door and is greeted with the buzzing energy generated by several of his fellow students hard at work in their respective corners.

A brilliant flash of red draws his eye and he spies Armitage over at Mara’s area, deep in conversation with her about her latest painting. Kylo had only had the chance to look at it as she was sketching it out but it shows promise of being one of her finest works yet. Armitage looks up at the sound of the door clattering open. He lifts his hand in greeting but returns his attention to the canvas in front of him.

Kylo picks his way through the studio to his corner where he deposits his bag and armful of library books on the workbench. He stops short at the entrance to his studio. Armitage has clearly been here for some time; his jacket and messenger bag are tossed to one corner of the sofa, his sleek silver laptop and notes are perched at one end of the workbench, carefully placed so as not to disturb Kylo’s drawings and artifacts laid out for future work. A cup of gently steaming, pitch black tea sits beside Armitage’s computer, and a extra large mocha for Kylo sits towards the back of the workbench, well out of the way of Kylo’s sketches and notebooks.

He takes a sip of the mocha. Hot and sweet, just the way he likes it. Gingerly setting the paper cup down, he pulls his sketch book toward him and turns to a clean page. He leans down to unzip his bag to extract his classical archaeology textbook. Flipping through the glossy pages, he settles on the chapter on Hellenistic sculpture and begins jotting down some notes as he reads.

Kylo adores his classical archaeology class. It dovetails perfectly with his area of artistic interest and moreover, he just finds it interesting. He pauses on a page with a full-page photograph of a sculpture of someone called Demosthenes. He admires the way the material of the man’s clothing draped - you could actually see the bend of the knee beneath the sculpted lines of the toga. The face is exquisite; pensive, the obvious intelligence shines out from the carved eyes. It reminds him of Armitage.

An idea begins to take shape and he hurries to capture it in his sketchbook. He works quickly, sketching the broad strokes of his new sculpture, making notes about how to support the weight of the bronze, and what found objects would suit. He should plan another scavenging mission to the Thames foreshore - it had been too long since he’d gone. Maybe he’ll get lucky and find a few more of the mysterious tiny garnets that frequently wash up on shore. Normally, all significant finds from the foreshore have to be reported to the Museum of London. But Kylo hopes that since the little garnet gems have been found so often, the museum agent might be persuaded to let him borrow them for at least the duration of his show. The gems would adorn the sculpted Armitage’s hair beautifully.

Satisfied with his work, he leans back from the edge of the table to stretch. Reaching his arms toward the high ceiling, the muscles ache pleasantly with the movement. He’s startled to notice that Armitage had returned, at some point, to sit beside him at the corner of the work bench. He’s quietly typing away on his laptop, bottom lip snagged between his teeth, a slight frown furrowing his brow. Kylo glances at Armitage's cup of tea and notices that it’s empty.

“Um, Armitage?” Kylo pauses, uncertain. “Did we say we’d do some sketching today?”

He pulls his phone from his pocket and pecks at the screen until his calendar opens. Nothing is scheduled today, as far as he could see.

“No, I just thought I’d come and work on my essays here, it’s so much more soothing than the library. And,” he looks up from his laptop, a slightly unsure smile on his face, “ I just thought it would be too long, waiting until next week to see you.” His eyes dart back down to the screen. “Is it okay that I’m here?”

Kylo’s heart soars. 

“Yes, absolutely, anytime!” He bites his lip at how eager he sounds. “I mean, of course, you can come hang out here whenever.”

Armitage smiles brightly and looks relieved.

“Oh good. I realized belatedly that I may have overstepped.”

Kylo shakes his head vigorously. “Not at all. Like I said, the studio is always open, and if the door is locked, just knock because it’s likely someone is still here. Everyone knows you by now anyway.”

Armitage leans on his crossed arms on the workbench. “Good. And thank you, I love spending time here.”

Kylo nervously rakes his hair back from his face and tucks it behind his ears. “Ah, that’s good.” His face flushes; he’s always so tongue-tied in Armitage’s presence.

“May I see what you’ve been working on so furiously for the past hour?”

Kylo surreptitiously covers the sketch book with his arm.

“Not right now, if that’s alright, it’s a surprise and still a work in progress.”

Armitage reaches out and lays his hand atop Kylo’s, squeezing gently he smiles. 

“Of course, show me when you’re ready, or not at all.”

Kylo hesitates. Then, taking a deep, fortifying breath, he slips his large hand over Armitage’s and shyly entwines their fingers. Armitage tightens his grasp, squeezing once. He glances up at Kylo’s flushed face then turns back to his laptop, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. They are quiet for a few minutes, then Armitage’s phone chimes.

“Oh, hell, I have to go. My macroeconomics professor has office hours now and this is the only time to talk to her outside of class.”

Kylo reluctantly releases Armitage's hand. He hurries to gather up his notes and laptop, shoveling it all unceremoniously into his bag. Gathering his jacket and scarf from the sofa, Armitage wraps the chunky navy blue scarf around his neck twice then swirls his jacket up and around his shoulders, sliding it up his arms in one smooth movement.

“Do you want to do some sketching later tonight?” He picks up his bag and hefts it over his shoulder. “I have a lot of homework but I can take one night off.”

“Sure, that would be great, actually, I have some new ideas to try.”

“I’ll text you when I’m done then.” He rubs his hand in a soothing circle on Kylo’s back, then squeezes his shoulder. “See you soon.” He whispers into Kylo’s ear.

He grins again, delighted at Kylo’s flustered lack of reply as he sails from the room.

\----

Kylo puts the finishing touches on his small clay sculpture. Sitting back, he admires his handiwork. The small bust of Armitage looks quite good, in his opinion. He managed to capture the way Armitage’s full lips quirk into his usual pleased smirk. The angle of his shoulders match the way his eyebrow arches, his hair sweeps artfully to one side. The only things missing from the bust are Armitage’s bright green eyes - but he’ll solve that problem later, once the bust has been cast in bronze.

He scrutinizes Armitage’s right eyebrow, the curve of the brow looks a bit off, the way the skin wrinkles on his brow doesn’t look natural enough. Kylo frowns, glad now that he had opted to test out this new clay with a small bust, rather than being impatient and leaping straight into casting a life sized statue. He picks up his hair drier and carefully heats the clay in the offending area. When the clay is malleable enough, he quickly scoops up his carving tools and sets to work repairing the section.

If he could get everything ready by next Monday, he might be able to actually make the bronze cast when the metallurgy technician was available, in case he needed assistance. Not that he needed help casting a small bust, it was just a precaution in case something went wrong. Now finished with his alterations, Kylo takes the bust, with its square plywood base, into the storage room next door. He placed the bust at the very back of the shelf, well away from the edge, and from other students’ projects. Some of his older molds from previous sculpture projects are stored on the second shelf, carefully wrapped to keep them free of dust and debris.

He’s coming back into the main studio when his phone chimes. It’s Armitage, on his way back after meeting with his professor and stopping at the library. He offers to pick up dinner for Kylo, but Kylo declines. His stomach is already fluttering with anticipation at seeing Armitage again, and with too much coffee from the student lounge on the first floor.

The studio is relatively quiet, for now, many of the others have gone home for the day, or off to find something to eat. Ysabeau is definitely coming back since she left her music playing. The otherworldly, spacey trance music she likes always makes Kylo feel unsettled. As he passes Mara’s space, he sees that she’s left her brushes set out in a tidy row on her workbench, she obviously hasn’t gone far because she never leaves her brushes lying around.

Armitage texts again to say he’ll be over in fifteen minutes so Kylo hurries to prepare. He wants Armitage to pose using the window as a prop so he pulls the paper shade down for privacy. The campus outside is bathed in a haunting blue-black, still dark at this early hour since spring is still some weeks away. Kylo sweeps away the stray dross and detritus on the window ledge - he doesn’t want Armitage to be uncomfortable. Even swept clean, the ledge still looks uninviting, with the peeling paint and potential for splinters. Kylo rummages around in the drawers of his workbench for something suitable He unravels a length of brushed silk in a bold crimson colour. This might work. He sets it aside and dives back into the drawer. Pulling out a length of gold fabric, an idea sparks. He carefully pins some of the delicate fabric to the window frame so that it cascades to the floor and pools there. He arranges the other bolt of silk on the ledge so that a cushion is created for Armitage to sit on or lean against. However he wants to pose, at least his tender skin will be protected.

He has just finished setting up his easel when he hears the telltale rattle of the studio door. Moments later, Armitage's familiar gray messenger bag and burgundy jacket land on the sofa. Armitage follows, slumping into an elegant sprawl on the cushions.

“Well, I’m back.”

Kylo huffs a laugh.

“Obviously.” He grins around the easel at Armitage. “Everything good?”

“Yes,” Armitage ruffled his hair, a long exhale escaping his lips, “I’ll be happy when this term is over, I have four papers and four exams coming up.” He glances up to meet Kylo’s concerned frown. “Don’t worry, Ky, I’ll be fine.”

“So, you can call me ‘Ky’ but I’m not allowed to call you ‘Armie’?”

“You’re damn right.” Armitage laughs as he kicked off his Converse and lurches to his feet in order to pull off his t-shirt. “Can we go for waffles after we’re done here?”

“I never should have taken you there. How do I know if you like me, or my access to perfect waffles?”

“What does your heart tell you?” Armitage replies cryptically, then he smiles again as he shimmies out of his jeans.

“Oh, quit showing off.”

“Never.” He cocks a hip, a saucy smile on his face. “Now, how to do you want me?”

_How did he want him?_ Settled comfortably in his lap would be a good place to start. Kylo ducks back behind his easel to hide his blushing face and silly grin. 

“You’re the worst,” Kylo mutters in response to Armitage’s short bark of laughter. “How about just standing for a few, to warm up, then we can move to the sofa and window.”

Armitage sobers as he arranges himself into an elegant balletic pose: he turns his back to Kylo and steps forward with his left leg, extending his right behind him, toes pointed. He raises his arms in a wide, loose circle so the effect was of a wide arc. He tips his head toward the ceiling and closes his eyes. It was a striking, dynamic pose. Kylo works diligently to capture his strong lines, the sweet curves of his hips and back, and the beatific smile on his face.

They work quietly for half an hour. Armitage shifts fluidly from pose to pose, Kylo fills page after page with sketches. Finally, Armitage sinks into some kind of warrior pose, lunging forward on one knee, with his arms and face pointed straight up toward the rafters. Kylo quietly calls for a break afterwards and Armitage flops dramatically onto the sofa, kicking his feet up to rest on the threadbare arm. He arches himself into a deep stretch, toes pointing and flexing with pleasure, then he sags back into the couch, sighing contentedly. Kylo smiles softly at him as he goes about transferring his completed sketches to his workbench and replenishing the supply of paper and charcoal on the easel.

As he settles back down behind his easel, Armitage sits up and looks at him expectantly.

“Okay, what now?”

“Ah,” Kyo stumbles to a stop, it has to be now. The thing he’s been dying to ask for weeks now, he’ll never have a better opportunity. “Could you, ah. Would you be willing to, um, do you think you could take your boxers off.” Kylo finishes quietly, mumbling into his chest, face aflame.

Armitage is quiet for a second and in that time, Kylo dies a thousand deaths. He shouldn’t have asked, he’s ruined everything, as usual. A careful rustling comes from Armitage’s direction, and Kylo is certain he’s pulling his clothes on, ready to storm out, but Armitage’s lilting voice calls his attention.

“Kylo, look at me.”

He moves as a glacial pace to finally peek nervously around the edge of the easel, his heart hammering away in his chest. A garbled noise escapes his lips as he sees Armitage standing before him in all his naked glory. With his hands planted on his hips, he watches Kylo drink him in. Kylo’s eyes roam from Armitage’s face down the long lines of his body to his sharp hips. A faint flush dapples across Armitage’s chest, giving him a charming blush of colour on his normally pale skin. The little crease where Armitage’s leg joined his body snags Kylo’s attention and refuses to let it go. He could happily live and die there. His gaze skims down Armitage’s shapely legs, wiry with muscle, to his endearingly knobbly knees and onward to his long, narrow feet.

“You,” he swallows audibly, “you look beautiful.”

Armitage smiles, ducking his head in an uncharacteristic show of bashfulness, a light flush dusted across his cheeks.

“Thank you,” He smiles up at Kylo from beneath his fall of hair “Now, how do you want me?”

Kylo slides back behind the easel to stop himself from gaping at Armitage.

“How about you sit on the sofa, we’ll try a few poses there, and then move to the window.”

He gives Armitage a few moments to arrange himself, and when Armitage clears his throat, indicating he’s ready, Kylo leans around the easel as his mouth goes dry. Armitage is lying on the sofa with his hip tilted toward Kylo so that his chest and legs are on display, his arms raised above his head. The ever-present pleased smirk is back upon his lips.

“Are you going to draw me like one of your French girls?”

Armitage grins, trying to lighten the heavily charged atmosphere from moments ago. Kylo frowns, confused.

“French girls? What are you talking about?”

“You know, ‘draw me like one of your French girls’? Rose and Jack? Kate and Leo? Titanic?!”

Kylo shakes his head, blank look on his face. Armitage rolls his eyes, smiling.

“You’re hopeless.”

“It’s a movie?”

Kylo watches as Armitage sits up again, laughing.

“You’re kidding me, you’ve never heard of Titanic? Maybe we should watch it when the term is done.”

Kylo attempts to keep his voice steady even though he was soaring.

“Yeah, maybe.”

Armitage is suggesting they continue to spend time together even after school was done for the term. He didn’t want to end their friendship once Kylo no longer needed to build up his drawing portfolio. Kylo thrilled at the idea - he wasn’t ready to give up Armitage either.

“Focus, Kylo.” Armitage draws his attention back from his daydream of a summer spent at Armitage's side and back to their task. “How’s this?”

Armitage positions himself in the corner of the sofa, lounging back with his elbow on the sofa arm, long legs crossed elegantly, his other arm draped across his knee. Kylo nods, as always Armitage knows just how to position himself to get the most out of his graceful body. He turns his face away from Kylo so that his sharp profile is on display.

Kylo works quickly. When he indicates he’s finished, Armitage shifts slightly, uncrossing his legs and tilting so that he sits more on his hip. He extends one leg out, daintily pointing his toes, tucking his other foot behind his calf. He sits up on his elbow and loosely drapes his left hand over his right wrist. This time he turns to gaze at Kylo, his expression soft and dreamy.

“Perfect,” Kylo breathes, “you’re perfect, Armitage. Stay just like that. Please.”

He works carefully, taking great care to spend time recreating the long, wiry lines of Armitage’s legs, the angle of his shoulders, the sublime way his fingers curl over the fine bones of his wrist. This is working out beautifully. At this rate, Kylo will have enough drawings to begin the first stages of his sculpture. Armitage shifts though a few other poses, almost always angled to show off his long legs to their best advantage.

“You have legs for days, it’s really unfair, you know.”

Armitage snorts. “You’re one to talk, bloody tree.”

Kylo chuckles. He’s never felt more energized about his work. The details of his sculpture are already taking shape in his mind, and as long as he is patient and diligent, it promises to be spectacular.

“Okay, how about you move to the window now.” He leans around the easel. “Don’t worry, the blinds are drawn.”

“How thoughtful.”

Kylo is about to respond with a heartfelt “you're welcome” when he catches the barest twitch of Armitage’s lips. He’s teasing him, and Kylo adores it.

In mock revenge, he has Armitage pose as if he’s looking out the window into the courtyard He balances up on demi-pointe, one hand braced on the window frame, the other on the sill. He knows it isn’t the most comfortable pose, but it shows off the strong muscles in Armitage’s legs. Kylo works quickly, then releases Armitage from the pose.

Armitage offers a few suggestions for positions, and they work through them all. Finally, Kylo asks Armitage to sit on the window ledge, one leg bent at the knee and drawn up onto the ledge, the other leg loosely extended out, a slight bend to the knee. Armitage wraps his arms around his knee and looks out the window. Kylo’s heart speeds up, this was it, this was the pose he had been looking for. He works furiously at the easel, filling the pages quickly. They tried a few minor variations of the pose, and when Armitage gently tilts his head down, causing his hair to cascade across his face, Kylo knows they’ve done it. He drew several pages worth of the pose until he’s exhausted his supply of paper. He sets his charcoal down, now barely anything more than a nub, and sits up, stretching.

“That’s it, Armitage, we got it. That’s the one I’m going to use for my project.”

Armitage slips off the window ledge and bends of gather his clothes from the floor. He tugs on his jade green t-shirt and silky boxers then comes to stand at Kylo’s shoulder.

“Wonderful,” he squeezes Kylo’s shoulder, “you’ve outdone yourself.”

Armitage’s hand slides up from Kylo’s shoulder and tangle in the stray curls that had escaped his top knot. He scritches his nails across Kylo’s scalp and Kylo leans into his touch, sighing quietly.

“I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Armitage places his hand gently on the back of Kylo’s neck.

“Hmm, I think you could have but I’m glad I was here to see it.”

Kylo leans back to gaze up at Armitage’s face. As always, Kylo is struck by his loveliness. The light of the studio throws Armitage’s cheekbones into sharp relief and make his green eye glitter brightly. He reaches up to sweep Armitage’s silky hair off his face.

“Celebratory waffles?” He asks, with a smile.

“Celebratory waffles,” Armitage confirms, “my treat.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “These are wonderful, Kylo.” Professor Sloane peruses his portfolio, a pleased smile on her face. “I’m glad to see you took my words to heart this year.”
> 
> “Thank you.”
> 
> Kylo is pleased too, he and Armitage have accomplished a lot together over the last few months.

“These are wonderful, Kylo.” Professor Sloane peruses his portfolio, a pleased smile on her face. “I’m glad to see you took my words to heart this year.”

“Thank you.”

Kylo is pleased too, he and Armitage have accomplished a lot together over the last few months.

“Whoever this young man is,” she taps a page showing one of his latest sketches, “I can see that you developed quite a rapport with him. The drawings of him are quite good, very lively and inspired. You’ve become much more confident in your work.”

“I just followed your advice, I found my muse.”

“Yes, I can tell.” She closes the book with a sharp snap and hands it back. “I look forward to your year-end show.”

Kylo murmurs his thanks again and stands to leave, but she calls him back.

“If you’re still serious about it, let’s schedule a time to meet and discuss the requirements for graduate school.”

“I am, still serious.” He adds, inching toward the door, eager to find Armitage and repeat Sloane’s words of praise to him. While he’s glad that Professor Sloane thinks he has improved, he aches for Armitage’s approval. “Can we talk next week?”

“Of course. Email me when you’re ready.” She calls to him as he disappears out the door.

Kylo is fairly certain that Armitage will be at the studio, Kylo knows he doesn’t have class this afternoon. He clambers up the stairs to the third floor but stops for a second to compose himself in front of the closed studio door. He didn’t want to appear the over-eager puppy that Mara occasionally accuses him of being. Taking a deep breath, he enters the studio and heads straight for his corner.

Armitage is indeed there, hard at work on his laptop, books and notes fanned out on the workbench around him. His fingers fly over the keys as he pounds out yet another paper. Kylo adores the way his brow furrows when he’s this deep into his work, almost nothing can rouse him when he’s like this.

Kylo quietly slinks into his studio corner, stows his portfolio, gathers his sketchbook and notes, and slips into his seat beside Armitage. He begins making a list of the items he’ll need to gather to finish up the sculpture. He’ll have to cast the statue in several pieces since it’s to be life-size. He’s already completed the clay sculptures for all the separate components, he’s only now in the middle of making the rubber molds.

When he finishes off his list of items, and notes possible places where he can obtain them, he shoves aside his sketchbook. He glances over at Armitage, still anxiously working on his paper, and smiles. He longs to kiss away that furrow between his eyes. For all his flirty behaviour, Kylo is still unsure of Armitage’s true intentions. They really only spent time with each other, and for all Kylo knows, Armitage is like this with all his friends. But, Kylo didn’t really believe that given how prickly he was when they first met. Kylo sighs and resigns himself to another few weeks in limbo. He fishes his art history text from his bag and starts in on his readings for the week.

He’s so engrossed in reading about Fauvism and wishing he could have lived in Paris at the turn of the century when Armitage's raspy voice breaks into his concentration.

“Kylo, you’re going to be late for your history class.”

“Shit!” Kylo leaps from the stool and scrambles to gather his books and notes. Shoving his books unceremoniously into his bag, he shrugs into his jacket before pulling his black beanie from his pocket to jam it on his head. Armitage looks up from his computer with a smile. Kylo leans down and quickly pecks him on the lips.

“See you later.” He sputters, wheeling for the door.

He didn’t make it very far before the enormity of what he just did nearly knocks him on his arse. He turns, shocked, eyes wide, to face Armitage, who is softly touching his lips with his fingertips and gazing at him in wonder. Kylo walks stiff-legged back into the studio.

“I kissed you.”

“Ah, you certainly did.”

Kylo drops onto the stool and just stares at Armitage. “Um, should we talk about it?”

“Probably, but not now, _amadán_. You have to get to class. Go, I’ll be here when you get back.”

“Right,” Kylo says mechanically, standing again. “I have class. I have to go to class.”

He reluctantly makes his way out of the studio, turning back to look at Armitage once more before the door swings closed. His stomach flutters as he watches Armitage raise his fingers to his lips again, a smile slowly blooming on his face.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of Kylo's year-end show has arrived, but will Armitage show up like he promised. Or is the emotion behind their kiss too much to bear?

Kylo paces around the gallery space on the first floor the Slade building. He checks his phone for the tenth time in as many minutes. Armitage said he’d be here as soon as his exam ended, which was about five minutes ago. What was taking him so long?

He shoves his phone back into his pocket and resumes his nervous pacing. He makes another round of the gallery, eyes unfocused. The white walls and bright lights blend into one blank blur. The vibrant colours of Mara’s painting catch his eye, though, and he stops.

“When’s Armitage getting here?”

Mara sidles up to stand at his side. Kylo shrugs, trying to affect boredom.

“He said he’d come after his exam.”

Mara hears the catch in his voice, she slips her hand over his shoulder and gently turns him to face her.

“He’ll be here, Kylo, he likes you. A lot.”

“Maybe.” Kylo trails off, uncertain. People who kissed him usually didn’t return for seconds. He’s ruined this thing with Armitage, whatever it was. How typical of him.

“Well, did you talk about that kiss? Or did you just leave and let it turn into a big, unwieldy mess?”

Kylo mumbles something unintelligible and stares resolutely at the painting on the wall. This is all the response Mara needs. She groans.

“You colossal idiot.”

“Oh my god, Mara, there wasn’t a good time.” Kylo hisses back. “We had exams, papers. I had to cast the sculpture. It just… never came up.”

“I can’t believe you’re such a big baby.” She slaps his shoulder. “Never a good time, what bollocks. He slept over at your house nearly every day.”

Kylo is about to snap back when his phone chimes. He nearly tears his pocket open as he wrenches the phone out. He taps the screen to see a new snapchat of Armitage pretending to throw his economic textbook into the bin, the words “school’s out for summer!” float at the bottom of the picture. Kylo can’t help but smile at the picture. Armitage looks tired but happy, his hair pushed back by his battered black Alice band. Kylo adores the silly headband he wears to study and take exams. Armitage claims it keeps the hair out of his eyes and brings him good luck but to Kylo, it’s just an adorable little quirk of Armitage’s personality. He takes delight in that band. A text bubble pops up over top of the Snapchat.

_On my way_

_C u soon_

Kylo smiles and closes the phone. Slipping it back into his pocket, he looks back at Mara. She’s standing with her arms crossed, one eyebrow raised in a smug expression. She just shakes her head as Kylo grins sheepishly.

“You’re hopeless, both of you.” She shakes her head again as she turns to go. “Talk to that poor boy, Kylo, put him out of his misery.”

“You’re not the boss of me.” Kylo mutters as she leaves. Mara only laughs as she heads towards the other end of the gallery to stand with Mitaka and Ysabeau.

Kylo resumes his anxious pacing once he’s alone again. Deep down, he knows Mara is right, he should talk to Armitage about the kiss. But, Kylo argues with himself, Armitage never brought it up either so maybe he doesn’t feel the same way. Kylo just can’t bring himself to have a conversation that might ruin everything - if he can’t have Armitage as his boyfriend, he’ll settle for his friendship. The hopeless pining will resolve itself in time, won’t it?

He’s startled out of his ruminations by a hand slipping around his elbow. He looks down at the delicate hand with its slim fingers ending in nails bitten down by stress. His eyes travel back up to meet Armitage’s tired but smiling face. As exhausted as he looks, he’s more relaxed than Kylo has seen him in a month.

“You came.”

Armitage leans against him. He squeezes Kylo’s elbow and allows his hand to trail down Kylo’s arm, as if he’ll take his hand. Armitage draws away just before their fingers tangle together. He smiles as he carefully plucks the Alice band from his hair and nestles it into Kylo’s dark locks.

“Of course I did, I wouldn’t miss the grand unveiling for the world.” He slips his hand back around Kylo’s bicep and tugs. “First London, then Vienna, then the world, right?”

Kylo smiles, intoxicated by Armitage’s nearness. He nods as he allows Armitage to lead him away from the centre of the room.

“Where’s your sculpture? I’m dying to see it.”

“This way.” Kylo leads him to the next gallery.

As they pass through the doorway, Armitage gasps audibly. In the centre of the room is Kylo’s life size bronze sculpture. The bronze version of Armitage sits on a large, twisting piece of driftwood that Kylo had scavenged on one of his dutiful visits to his parents’ cottage in Folkestone.

To bear the weight of the bronze, he’s had to install supports, but he hid them with more scavenged foliage and branches. Sitting upon his forest throne, the bronze Armitage extends one long leg out, toes pointed, as if he’s dipping them into a stream. His hands rest on the driftwood at his sides and he leans forward, his curtain of hair sweeping across his eyes. Kylo had managed to talk the museum into letting him borrow a handful of the little garnet beads he’s found on the Thames foreshore. Luckily, the beads were already drilled so he was able to string them with some translucent fishing wire and weave them into the statue’s hair, a crown fit for an emperor. Behind the statue, Armitage’s graceful form dances across the walls in the form of several framed sketches.

“Oh, Kylo.” Armitage breathes as he lets go of Kylo’s arm and circles around the sculpture to view it from all sides. “This is beautiful.”

Kylo ducks his head, pleased by Armitage’s reaction. Armitage comes back around to stand beside Kylo. He gazes raptly at his bronze likeness, his lips parted in awe.

“You made me look far too enticing.”

“I just capture what I see.” Kylo murmurs back, echoing his words from their first modeling session together.

Armitage’s gaze dips between Kylo’s eyes and his mouth, as his tongue darts out to flick at his bottom lip. Armitage lets his gaze come to a rest on Kylo’s mouth as he sways closer. Kylo looks down, closing his eyes briefly to break the intensity in Armitage's gaze.

He hears Armitage make an exasperated sound then those delicate fingers tangle into his hair and he’s gently pulled forward into a kiss. He gasps quietly at the sensation of Armitage’s soft lips, and that little gasp is all the encouragement Armitage needs to arch closer. He flicks his tongue over Kylo’s bottom lip, jolting him into action. Kylo wraps his arms tightly around Armitage's waist, pulling them flush together. Armitage groans as he eagerly presses into Kylo. His hands tighten in Kylo’s hair as their kiss becomes sloppier, wetter.

A sarcastic clapping rouses Kylo. He breaks off the kiss to glare at Mara over the top of Armitage’s head.

“It’s about time.”

“Bye, Mara.” He growls pointedly at her as Armitage nuzzles kisses into the soft spot behind his ear. He bites back a moan as Armitage nips at his earlobe.

She smirks at him before turning to leave the room. As he turns his attention back to Armitage, he hears her call loudly to their friends in the main room.

“No one go in there for a few minutes, they're finally kissing.”

Kylo’s face heats up furiously as he hears his classmates cheer and clap. As he dips his head to feather kisses across Armitage’s cheek and down to his lips, Armitage chuckles quietly.

“You know, we could have been doing this for months now.”

“I know,” Kylo skates his hand up Armitage’s back up to cup his cheek, he bestows two quick kisses in rapid succession. “I’m an idiot.”

“You are, but you’re my idiot. Aren’t you?”

Kylo pulls back and brings his other hand up to cradle Armitage’s face.

“I am, entirely.”

Armitage’s smile is blinding bright as he allows Kylo to tip his head up and claim his mouth again. And again.

And again.


End file.
